A Shadow
by Cuddles dances like Sven Yah
Summary: Character preview, gift for fellow roleplayers and those that read along.


AN/Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or any affiliated media.

As a note this is a gift, first in a series, for those I rp with and that read along with our rps to showcase are preview new characters before they are properly released and shown in the rp. Note that anything shown here may still be a work in progress and is not meant to be a rip off of any other character, and not all characters herein are mine, if you wish to use a character from this story in one of your own please contact me first, thank you.

A Shadow

The night is dark over Rome, as the moon sits full in the night, stars litter the sky, but still the night seems pitch black, devoid of light, devoid of virtue. It is here we find a figure sitting atop an old dilapidated building, hunched over, a dark cowl and cloak donned over sleek metal boots reaching up to his knees, metal gauntlets upon his arms, and a set of crisscrossing belts holding many a small compartments across his waist and abdomen, two pairs of large 9mm hand guns.

The figure watches through the slits of a dark steel face mask, placed under the hooded cowl.

He feels through the darkness, seeing through them with the gifts he has been given, he sees a warehouse, thugs moving about within and deep within it he feels a fading light, a glimmer of an innocent life, so close to being snuffed out, and the figure stands.

'_Atonement, forgiveness, redemption, these are the things I seek. Upon my first life here I killed, I took the lives of the weak and those around me to further my own life, I saw myself as more valuable, that I was worth more to this world. That with every life I took I gave mine more value. __**Laughable!**__ I died alone, double crossed in an alley way with 10 pieces of lead peppered through my chest, left burning in a dumpster with the rest of the trash… quiet literally. A meaningless __**end**__ for a meaningless __**man**__, however… it was not my end, it was the end of one man, and the beginning of something else, the… thing I am today. _

_I saw him, he who claimed to be the future God of this world, a man who controlled the very gates of death and life, Zaren Drath, the bringer of the raining dead, the Harold of the Unliving, the God those of Brotherhood worship. I was his experiment, could he create a copy of one of the most powerful beings that had ever lived with his own powers, I was a failure, made with too much hesitation and fear of creating something unstoppable, I was made to be weak, thus I am a failure to him._

_So he sent me back to the world of the living as this __**abomination**__… I was no longer a man, I was barred from passing on, I tried to end it all, but everything I tried! I jumped from a great height… tried to swallow a bullet, slit my own veins, I kept waking up again and again…'_

The shadows around the figure seemed to rise and swallow him up as he sank into them, emerging atop another roof, overlooking the warehouse he had seen before. Thugs standing about, smoking, chatting, laughing, he could hear them, their breathing, and the beating of their hearts.

'_But I realized something, I had __**power**__, why would such a man like me be given this power then barred from death? There was only one conclusion. I was given this power to __**pay**__ for my sins, __**blood for blood**__, __**life for life**__, but the lives and souls of the guilty are paltry when compared to the worth of the innocent's lives. I knew that it would take countless guilty souls to pay back what I had done in life, but still, no matter how long it takes I will pay that toll. _

_I do not do what I do for the sake of the innocent, I do this not for revenge… revenge implies some personal hate towards those I harvest, I am not justice for justice is blind and I finally seeing for the first time…'_

The figure jumped, almost soundlessly from the roof top landing gracefully upon the ground across an empty street from the warehouse he walked forwards slowly before seeming to melt into the ground as a shadow a phantom which slithered along the ground, through the warehouse towards that last litter glimmer of light. He emerged next to it, in a small closet like room, the smell hit him first, the smell of death, of blood and rot, he looked about, in the pitch darkness he saw clearer then day, the dead, four bodies, a mother, a father, two sons, and he looked to his right and in the corner he saw a form, still as death, but still moving with every breath its thin form was shaken though the breathes were weak and labored, the figure knelt down in front of the small girl. She was starving that was obvious, dirt and grim covered her skin, her light brown eyes distant and empty, she would have been pretty, given time to grow. And in a horrible grim sense he still found this starving broken visage of a girl beautiful, perhaps it was the release from world to the next, moving to a more peaceful world, perhaps that was what he found beautiful about it.

But as moved to brush some hair from her face with a single finger, he felt it, her body shook for a moment, she held a breath to long and exhaled slowly, her form growing even more still if that was possible. And on her last breath he heard her final wish. _"Home" _

'_I cannot avenge the innocent nor fulfill their wishes, I can only remove the guilty so they cannot strike a gain…. I am not judgment, through their actions they have judged themselves. I am simply a greedy lost soul, trying to scrape together enough to pay the ferryman's toll.'_

The figure stood and turning to the door, he sunk into the shadows again and rose from the floor in the middle of the warehouse, he presence wasn't immediately noticed, and he stood still, but it only took a moment, one of the thugs, sitting at a table playing cards, half way through lighting a cigarette noticed him, freezing, the lighter fell from his hands and he shouted something, his hand reaching for his gun..

The figure heard it, the scraping of chairs against the floor, men shouting, the drawing of weapons.

The lighter hit the floor, and the figure moved.

Drawing out two of the 9mm he began firing, shots ringing out through the air, though the sound was feint, like the darkness around them in the dimly lit warehouse were smothering it, he fired with cold accuracy, every bullet finding a skull or chest, some men still tried to move and fight after a chest wound they took more than one shot to go down…. He'd note that for later, focus on only head shots, he counted his shots, and when the last was spent he holstered the pistols, and as if moving across the ground upon a wisp of shadows he glided to one of the men, a fat thug, his gauntleted hand reaching out and grasping the man's throat, crushing it in an instant, as he dropped the man, gurgling and choking upon his own blood, and a lack of air, the figure could hear his heart beat faster, trying to force blood through the pigs clogged and cholesterol filled arteries.

He grabbed the wrist of a nearby thug twisting it with a reward snap, from one of his belts he drew force a small circular pad, touching the center, it began to blink red and a sharp pick protruded force, burying it in the thugs gut he proceeded to flip the thug over his shoulder and sent him flying through the air towards several more of his counter parts, the bomb went off, and the ensuing blast consumed all of them.

The others were running, and the figure moved as if on an auto pilot, moving from the shadows, striking each one down, ONE. BY. ONE.

Then the figure was struck from behind, a flash of green lightning crashing into his back causing him to double over and roll across the ground. He looked up, a large man, a glimmering ring of lightning upon each finger, the energy arching across his bare muscular chest and arms.

The figure stood up, two swirling portals of shadows appearing at his sides he reached in, pulling forth two large, long barreled magnums, sleek and black with red swirling patterns painted upon it in his right hand, and in his other, the same but the colors reversed.

"Last Breath." He pointed forward the gun in his right.

"Final Wish." The one in his left faced forwards, his opponent, with a barbaric shout punched forwards sending forth a spiraling sphere of lightning flames towards the figure. As it neared he fired the Final wish, a pillar of concentrated storm flames emerged, piercing through and consuming his foes attack it continued on through burning through and destroying his right arm and the back of the warehouse wall where it hit.

The figure fired the Last Breath, and a swirling blast of shadows flew forth, breaking apart and moving forwards like a barrage of dark arrows, piercing the man continuously, as the shadows faded the man dropped, blood oozing from the many wounds, his body barely held together by his tough muscle tissue, life undoubtedly torn from his body. He hit the ground with a thud and the figure tossed the weapons back through the shadow portals.

He turned slowly leaving the ware house as it started to burn, starting at the back wall where his storm flames had hit.

'_A few more coins were added to my purse tonight, all for the ferry man in the form of the souls of these men… I regret nothing done tonight, I don't regret killing, I don't regret arriving late to save that child. I have done what I came to do, I am not justice…. I am not vengeance… I am not judgment… I am not their savior nor am I the grim reaper… I am the wander soul collecting its toll. I am WRAITH!"_


End file.
